


Seven Minutes in [Fabric Rustles]

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Costume parties, Halloween, Hugs, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Gets a Hug, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 01, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, except no one gets kissed, rating is for innuendo and drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: "I want you," Tim said, jumping a step back so he could point at each person in the room in turn. "To come to my Halloween party! I'm helping some friends set it up at their flats, they've got the whole building involved and it'll be amazing!"
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 40
Kudos: 297





	Seven Minutes in [Fabric Rustles]

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> Did you know the last time Halloween was on a Saturday was 2015, aka the first year in the Archives? Nor did I till I looked it up, but it feels like serendipity!
> 
> CW: Drunken party games with a lack of participant consent, as in, “Martin gets shoved into a closet to play seven minutes in heaven despite saying he doesn't want to.” Nothing actually happens in the closet that isn't thoroughly discussed, though.

"Gather 'round, friends and esteemed colleagues, I have an announcement to make!"

Martin winced, just barely restraining himself from covering his ears to muffle Tim's bright, booming voice as he clattered down the stairs to the Archives. It was  _ far  _ too loud for nine am on a Monday morning.

"Let me guess," Sasha said, sitting up straight at her desk. She was also unfairly perky. "You've had a bolt from the blue flash of inspiration about the meaning of life and gone and adopted a dog."

"Oh, don't tease me," Tim said, deflating a little. "You know my landlord won't allow it. Anyway!" he continued, rallying, "that's not what it is! Jon, come on out, you need to hear this too!"

This last was accompanied by him rapping his knuckles sharply against Jon's door. He stared at it expectantly when he finished.

After a moment, it creaked open, and Jon peered around the edge of the frame. He, at least, looked appropriately groggy for the time of day. Martin was glad he wasn't the only one.

"What do you want, Tim?" Jon sighed.

"I want  _ you," _ he said, jumping a step back so he could point at each person in the room in turn. "To come to my Halloween party! I'm helping some friends set it up at their flats, they've got the whole building involved and it'll be  _ amazing!" _

"They're going ahead with it?" Sasha grinned. "You know I'll be there! Is it day-of?"

"It is indeed, starting nine pm sharp, save the date!" He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together in excitement. "And I convinced them. It's going to be a costume party."

_ "Excellent." _ Sasha looked delighted, and Martin had to admit he found the idea rather thrilling himself. He'd never been to a real costume party before.

"Yeah, count me in," he said, smiling at Tim. "Are you sure your friends won't mind us party-crashing?"

"Buddy, they won't even  _ notice," _ Tim said, grinning. "There's going to be hundreds of people there."

"Wow," Martin and Sasha said in unison, and Tim beamed.

"Exactly! It'll be unforgettable, which is why you  _ have  _ to come!  _ All  _ of you," he added, turning to give Jon a stern look. Jon blinked at him, looking slightly nervous.

"I, uh... not- I'm not sure if that's a good idea, Tim, I really shouldn't stay out that late on a work night-"

"Halloween's on a Saturday this year, boss," Tim said, and Jon stuttered to a halt.

"Oh. I see."

"Yeah," Tim said, sounding smug. "No excuses this year, Jon, you got away with it long enough in Research. You coming?"

"I- well..." Jon floundered for a minute, opening and shutting his mouth soundlessly. "Send me the details," he said finally. "I'll see what I can do, my schedule is rather-"

"Jon," Tim said, stepping over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "October's only just begun. You've got a month to figure out your schedule, so unless you have other plans -  _ not  _ work..." Tim gave him his most sincere look, the one Martin and Sasha could never resist, with the big eyes and the earnest smile. "Please come?"

Jon just stared at him for a moment. "I'll see what I can do," he said eventually, and strode back into his office, closing the door firmly behind himself.

Tim sighed, then turned to the others with a rueful shrug. "Guess that's the best I'm getting."

"At least it's not a definite no," Sasha offered, as Tim walked over to his desk and started setting up for the day.

"Eh, it never is with Jon," he said. "It's a 'maybe' until it becomes an 'I forgot'."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

Martin tuned them out, turning back to his own computer and staring down his to-do list with malice aforethought. He couldn't blame Jon for being hesitant to make plans, honestly. They'd been working in the Archives for months now, and they'd barely made any headway at all on the mess that Gertrude had left them. Tim and Sasha had been handling it fine, Martin had been keeping his head above water as best he could, but Jon... Jon was drowning in it. He always looked tired, tense and anxious as he struggled to revive a dying department single-handedly. He could probably use the night off more than any of them.

Martin wished he could be certain he would take it.

~~~~~

The decorations were visible from halfway down the block. Martin didn't know exactly how many of Tim's friends had been involved in the organization of this party, but they had gone all out: cobwebs were draped down half the building, and large, decorative spiders perched at intervals along them. Invisible wires were strung up to lift ghosts and ghouls and other floating horrors; skeletons lurked on the stairway, stretching out their boney arms to grab at guests and passersby alike. Strings of lights wound around everything, just bright enough to illuminate the scene without ruining the atmosphere.

It was, in a word,  _ spooky. _

Martin absolutely loved it.

A cab pulled up as he was approaching the building, and Sasha stepped out. She was wearing a patchwork dress, her long hair brushed straight and falling around her shoulders. Every joint was accented with delicate stitches, with additional lines arching up and around her head and accentuating her smile.

Martin grinned, walking up behind her as she bent to pay the cab driver.

_ "My dearest friend, if you don't mind," _ he crooned, as soon as she was done, and she spun around with a brilliant smile.  _ "I'd like to join you by your side!" _

She curtsied. "I'd be honored, Spiderman," she said, and he laughed.

"God, yeah, my costume really doesn't match yours, huh?"

"Maybe," she said, linking their arms together. "But I'm not dancing with one of the stairway skeletons."

"Is there going to be dancing?" Martin asked as they made their way toward the stairs. "Tim honestly didn't prepare me much for this."

"Possibly?" She shrugged, and ducked under a trailing cobweb to get through the door. "All I know is, they've been planning this for ages.  _ Whoa!" _

This last was upon entering the building itself. The decorations continued inside, even more extravagant than the exterior, of that were possible. Most were relegated to the walls to avoid tripping hazards, but the whole place was done up in moldering Victorian finery to rival even the most deadly of haunted houses. All the interior doors were thrown open to create a space large enough for the party, and people wandered around in pairs and small groups, talking, laughing, and drinking. There was music playing from somewhere, loud enough to be heard without being overwhelming.

"Tim's already here, he texted to say he's on the top floor," Sasha said, leaning into Martin's arm to draw his attention. "Wanna go up now, or check the place out first?"

Martin...  _ really  _ wanted to take the tour. He also didn't want to delay Sasha if she wanted to go see Tim right away. He hesitated for a moment, and it must have shown on his face, because Sasha laughed and tugged at his arm.

"Come on, let's go look around!"

They did. The place did  _ not  _ disappoint.

Eventually they found their way to the top floor, and Tim. He was in the middle of a small group of people, but he caught Sasha's eye when she waved and broke off to greet them, grinning.

"Sally-Nightmare-Before-Christmas, Spiderman," he said, shooting finger guns at each of them in turn as he identified their costumes. "Martin, that  _ is _ you under that mask, yeah?"

"Yeah," Martin laughed, lifting up the bottom of it for a moment to flash a grin at Tim. He'd snagged the costume last-minute on the way home from work the day before, thanking the stars there was one left in his size; he hadn't thought through the anonymity risk with the full face mask. "And you are...?"

Tim's costume was... extravagant. He was wearing a red velvet jacket with large clasps up the front, holding it closed; a dark fur shawl was draped around his shoulders. He had heavy leather boots, and the cut of his trousers could only be described as breeches. The show-stopper, however, was his hat. It was a red velvet dome, with a stripe along the bottom entirely encrusted in sparkly plastic rhinestones. There was a star-shaped piece of gold cloth sewn to the front, with more rhinestones and false pearls adorning it to complete the look.

He also had a fake mustache.

Tim struck a pose at Martin's question, one hand propped on his hip and his other raised to tilt the hat at a dashing angle.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm a sexy vampire?"

Sasha stared at him silently for a moment. Then: "Tim."

"Yes?" he asked. Martin had never seen someone being coy before. Tim was clearly attempting it now.

"Tim," Sasha said again. "Are you Vlad Dracula?"

"Mayyybe," he said, stretching the word out.

If Martin had had a drink, he would have choked on it. _ "Vlad the Impaler?" _

"Tim. Tim," Sasha said urgently. "How long have you been working on this costume?"

"Since June."

"Oh. My. God." She lifted a hand to cover her eyes, shaking her head.

"I... can't tell," Martin said. "Is this a good reaction, or...?"

Tim laughed. "It's a good one, trust me."

Sasha dragged her hand away from her face, glaring at him. "You utter bastard," she said. "'Sexy vampire.'  _ June. _ You utter, utter bastard."

"And how long have you been working on your costume?"

She huffed. "July. I had to sew most of this dress by hand, you know."

"How do you think I made the trousers? Don't worry, Sash," he said. "I'm sure you'll upstage me next year."

"I'll start in  _ May, _ just to spite you."

"I look forward to it," he said, and she finally cracked, rolling her eyes and smiling at him.

"Oh, just watch. Jon'll show up in, like, a picture-perfect accurate-to-the-last-stitch Lord of the Rings cosplay or something and show us both up."

Tim laughed, and Martin forced himself to chuckle along, doing his best to ignore the little lurch in his gut at the mention of their boss.

When the laughter died down, he cleared his throat.

"Is Jon, ah, is he not here yet, then?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice casual. Sometime over the last month, his feelings for Jon had shifted from worry over him not getting enough sleep, to  _ oh god he's cute when he's sleepy, _ to a genuine, full-blown crush. He was really, really,  _ really  _ trying to keep the others from finding out about it.

He didn't know how well he was succeeding.

Tim gave him a knowing look. "Not yet, no," he said. "I'm not even sure if he's coming, he never gave me a definitive answer."

Martin swallowed the stab of disappointment that elicited. "Yeah, I, I guess this isn't really his kind of thing, is it?"

"Definitely not," Sasha said, casting an appreciative glance out at the milling crowd. "Back in Research he avoided any work function that was going to have more than ten people in attendance. I think crowds make him nervous."

"Which, I mean, he lives in London," Tim added on. "I don't even know how that's  _ possible." _

"Jon is a man of contradictions," Sasha said fondly. "Come on, Tim, you're holding out on us. Where are the drinks?"

Tim laughed, and led them out of the room they'd been in, through a hallway, and into another flat. Whoever lived here had converted their entire kitchen into an open bar, and Sasha cooed with delight as she began mixing an elaborate cocktail for herself. Martin waved her off when she offered to make one for him as well: he had to take the bus home later, and didn't want to risk getting too drunk. Tim passed him a fizzy drink instead.

Time elapsed in a fluid way. Martin's phone was stuck in an inside pocket of his costume, so he couldn't easily check how long he'd been here, and the only clock he could spot was an old, rickety wooden thing with a cracked face that was deliberately stopped at midnight.

The party became more raucous as more people arrived and more alcohol was consumed, at any rate. There  _ was  _ dancing - the three of them ended up in the flat where the music was coming from, spinning in a circle with linked arms to whatever vaguely Halloween-themed music was on the night's playlist and laughing.

Some things were unavoidable, however, and eventually Martin had to break off from the fun to run to the bathroom. Given that the entire building was filled with separate living units, there were quite a lot of bathrooms to choose from. Given that there were hundreds of people in the building, the choice was rather more limited than Martin had expected.

The top floor bathrooms all had ridiculously long lines. The next floor down was even worse. The stairs to the floor below that were packed with people lingering in place talking, and Martin nearly collided head first with a sheet ghost coming up the other way as he dodged around the groups to make his way down.

"Sorry!" he said as he pushed past, but he was pretty sure the word was lost to the crowd.

Thankfully, he found a free bathroom on the next floor, and was able to steal a moment of quiet once the door shut behind him. He checked his phone: 11:37. Not as late as he'd expected, honestly, but still far later than he usually stayed out. He wasn't feeling tired, though; there was far too much energy in the air for that.

Trying to get back  _ up  _ the stairs was even worse than getting down had been, because at least then he'd had gravity on his side. By the time he finally made it back to the room with the music, Tim and Sasha were nowhere to be seen. He sighed, rolling his eyes behind his mask, and ducked back out into the hallway to check for them in the other flats.

He was promptly hit on the head with a beanbag.

"Spiderman's it!" someone shouted, and suddenly there were hands grabbing at his arms and pushing him from behind to propel him down the hallway.

"Wh- wait, what-" Martin's protests were lost in the crowd as he was dragged along. Another beanbag arched over his head from down the hall, striking someone behind him.

"Sheet ghost!" was the cry this time, and Martin glanced over his shoulder to see the sheet ghost from the stairway being manhandled along as well.

He turned back in confusion, eyes catching on Tim and Sasha lingering in a doorway as he was swept past. They must have seen the question in his eyes, because Tim cupped his hands around his mouth to shout.

"Seven minutes in heaven!" he said, and Sasha followed with: "If you get hit, you're it!" and a wink.

"I'm not playing!" he protested, but he was already getting towed into one of the flats and pushed toward the bedroom closet.

"Listen, I really don't want to-" Martin tried, but no one seemed to hear him. He could see the sheet ghost flailing at the crowd, cloth flapping around their arms as they were dragged closer to Martin, but he couldn't hear if they were saying anything.

There was a momentary rush of confusion as he was spun around and toward an open door; then he was through it, stumbling into a tight, cramped space and over the shoes scattered on the floor. The sheet ghost followed close on his heels, tripping over the trailing edge of their costume, and then the door shut behind them with a sharp  _ click!, _ muting the noise of the crowd outside.

As soon as Martin got his bearings he held up a hand in front of himself. His palm brushed the ghost's sheet and he startled from the closeness. It was pitch dark in the closet, now that the door was closed.

"Hi," he said, forcing a bit of false cheer into his voice past the awkwardness. "Um, I- I'm sorry to ruin the whole mood of the thing, but, um, I'm not really comfortable making out with a stranger?" He grinned nervously, despite the fact that his companion would not be able to see it. "I, uh, I know that's the point of the game but I didn't really agree to play..."

The sheet ghost gave a very familiar grunt of surprise. "Martin?  _ You're  _ Spiderman?"

Martin's stomach dropped.  _ "Jon?" _

"Yeah," Jon said, and Martin could have kicked himself. He shouldn't have said anything. He could be making out with his crush  _ right now _ if he hadn't said anything. He could be  _ kissing Jon. _

"That actually simplifies things quite a bit," Jon continued. "I was about to tell you I'm not comfortable kissing a stranger either. I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Oh," Martin said, and kicked himself for kicking himself.  _ Of course _ Jon wouldn't want to kiss a stranger, he was awkward about even casual touches with people he knew. And besides, the social fallout from making out with his boss at a Halloween party would be disastrous. "Right."

There was a noise of shifting cloth, and Martin was hit with a face-full of fabric. He lurched back a step, almost tripping over a shoe and just barely managing to catch himself on the wall.

"Oh, sorry," Jon said absently. "Just taking this blasted sheet off. It's rather hard to breath under."

"No, no, I'm fine," Martin said, though he was decidedly  _ not  _ fine, precariously balanced as he was to avoid both falling over and crowding back into Jon's space. "That's, um, actually a good idea." He peeled off his own mask, taking a deep breath. The air in the closet was thick and warm, and he caught a distinct whiff of Jon's cologne. His knees went slightly weak.

There was an awkward pause.

"So." Jon cleared his throat. "Tim and Sasha are somewhere around as well, then?"

"Yep," Martin said, latching onto the conversation gratefully. Just because he had a crush on Jon didn't mean he knew how to  _ talk  _ to him, particularly when Jon sounded as though he'd rather be anywhere that wasn't here. "I saw them while I was being dragged in here, they'll probably be waiting for us when we get out."

"Good," Jon said, and fell silent.

"They'll be happy to see you," Martin offered after a moment. "Tim thought you weren't coming."

"I nearly didn't," Jon said. He sounded vaguely embarrassed, which was not an emotion Martin had heard from him before. "I'd forgotten it was tonight until I received a text from Tim saying to find him on the top floor."

Martin couldn't help it; he snorted. "Oh, don't tell Tim that, he said you would forget and he'll be too smug if he finds out he was right."

"I'll keep that in mind." There was a note of humor in Jon's voice, and Martin beamed. "Though he may be able to tell just based on my costume. I fear it's rather obviously a product of last-minute desperation."

"Hey, can't go wrong with a good old-fashioned ghost," Martin said. Jon hummed.

"I'm just lucky I had a spare sheet to use, I suppose."

"Ha, yeah. Might not want to go stripping your bed for the sake of a costume."

"Quite."

Silence fell again.

Martin bit his lip. "So, I, uh, I guess we just stay in here till they let us out, then?"

"We don't seem to have much choice," Jon said dryly, and Martin nodded.

"Right," he said. "Right..."

He wished he knew if Jon had any hobbies outside of work that they could talk about. He wished he had the courage to  _ ask  _ if he had any hobbies outside of work. He wished he knew what to do with seven minutes alone with the guy he had a crush on that wasn't just making small talk, because this was an absolutely unmissable opportunity and he had a feeling he was blowing it.

Jon cursed softly, shifting where he stood. "Oh, this is- this is ridiculous," he said, a familiar annoyance in his voice. "Can I hug you?"

Martin could  _ feel  _ his brain shutting down, all higher functioning giving way to blank, uncomprehending shock. "Sorry?" he asked, and barely registered how calm and composed he sounded because Jon had just asked to  _ hug him _ and there was no  _ way  _ he'd heard that correctly.

Jon huffed. "There's a shelf digging into my back and from the way you keep shifting your balance I'm assuming you're close to falling over on all the clutter on the floor. This is going to end poorly for one or both of us if we keep trying to give each other a respectable amount of personal space. If we're holding each other in the middle of the closet we can make sure neither of us gets injured during this ordeal. So: can I hug you?"

He sounded  _ remarkably  _ put out for a man asking for a bit of a cuddle.

"O-oh!" Martin said, and put a conscious effort into not hyperventilating. "Y-yeah, come here."

Martin pushed himself off the wall. He heard a soft footstep as Jon stepped closer to him, and then suddenly he was  _ there, _ in Martin's space, body heat radiating into the space between them for just a moment before that space was eliminated as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Martin's shoulders.

Martin closed his eyes, wrapping his own arms around Jon's waist in turn, and tried not to be too conspicuous about it as he took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of Jon's cologne and Jon's shampoo and  _ Jon, _ from closer than he ever thought he'd be.

Jon had draped the sheet around himself as a cape, and when he hugged Martin he brought it with him, hands holding onto the edges and enfolding them both in it like a blanket. It was warm, and cosy, and comfortable, and even though Jon was holding himself stiff as a board Martin couldn't remember a better hug in his  _ life. _

Well. That was untrue. Tim and Sasha were both  _ excellent  _ huggers.

But he didn't have a crush on  _ them. _

"Is this alright?" Jon asked after a moment.

Martin forced his brain back online. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

He could feel the movement of Jon's shoulders as he shrugged. "There doesn't have to be a reason, I just don't want you to feel pressured into an uncomfortable position due to our current confined environment."

Martin could have melted. He should have known Jon would be a stickler for consent, the man was a walking how-to guide on respecting people's personal space. It was still incredibly endearing.

"The thought is appreciated, but I'm fine," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as soft and fond as it felt. "I like hugs. Are  _ you  _ okay with it?"

"Yes, thank you," Jon said, and his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around Martin's shoulders. "This is far more comfortable than leaning against the shelf was."

Well, it wasn't exactly a glowing endorsement. But Martin couldn't help the grin that sprung to his lips at that, and he didn't try to repress the urge to draw Jon a little closer.

There was another quiet pause, though this one felt far more content and peaceful than the previous silences had. Martin could  _ feel  _ Jon's breath evening out through the movement of his shoulders, slowing and calming into a deep, relaxed rhythm.

It was incredibly comforting. Martin felt his own breath slowing to match it, and he uncurled one of his hands from the loose fist he'd had resting against Jon's back to press his palm flat to the space between his shoulder blades, between his jumper and the sheet that covered them both.

The effect was immediate, and unexpected.

Jon inhaled, long and deep, and on the exhale all the tension drained out of his body. He relaxed from the stiff upright posture he had been holding, sagging against Martin and tucking his face into his shoulder. His arms, which had previously been looped loosely around Martin's shoulders, tightened into a true embrace, drawing him close until he was pressed tight against Jon's chest.

It occurred to Martin then that, despite Tim and Sasha's generous approach to physical affection in friendships, he couldn't remember ever seeing Jon accept a hug from them. He always tried to hold himself at a professional distance from his assistants, both physically and emotionally, and... he'd never mentioned anything about any  _ other  _ close acquaintances who might offer such a gesture, either.

How long had it been, Martin wondered, since Jonathan Sims had been hugged?

Martin flattened his other palm against Jon back too, and gave him a tight squeeze. He turned his head to the side, letting his cheek rest against the fabric of Jon's jumper, and just held him.

Jon didn't seem inclined to let go any time soon. One fist curled loosely into the collar of Martin's costume, tangling his fingers in the stretchy material. His knuckles brushed the back of Martin's neck, warm and dry.

Martin held his breath, and ran one hand very gently down Jon's back. He wouldn't have thought it was possible, but Jon relaxed even more at the touch, leaning, boneless, against Martin. Martin repeated the motion, carefully lifting his hand to Jon's shoulder and stroking down his spine, not quite a massage but still a soothing pressure. It was a bit awkward keeping his hand from getting tangled in all the layers of cloth, but it was worth it for the deep, quiet peace that seemed to overtake Jon at the touch.

Time lost all meaning. It could have been mere seconds or an eternity before the knock on the door came, though logically Martin knew it had to have been somewhat less than seven minutes.

Regardless, there was a knock on the door.

"Time's up, lovebirds!" someone on the other side sing-songed. "Better get your costumes back on!"

Jon sighed, breath whiffing against Martin's neck. "I suppose we ought to head out," he said. He sounded half asleep.

Martin had to take several deep breaths to ensure his voice wouldn't squeak embarrassingly when he talked. "Yeah," he said eventually, heart feeling far too large for his chest.

Jon's hand fell from his collar, and his arms pulled slowly away from Martin's shoulders as he straightened. Martin reluctantly released his grip around Jon's back, taking another deep breath as he shuffled a step backward to give him room to stand.

There was a muffled stumbling noise, and one of Jon's hands shot out to close around Martin's arm for a moment.

"Sorry," he said, and made a sound very similar to a stifled yawn as he let go. "Tripped."

"It's fine," Martin said, and hoped the darkness covered him enough to hide the fact that he pressed one hand over his own mouth, trying to choke back any further words before he did something rash like calling Jon  _ adorable. _

He focused instead on getting his mask back on, fiddling with it for a moment until he could be sure it was on straight. There were rustling sounds coming from Jon as well as he struggled with his sheet.

He cursed. "It keeps- it won't stay on!"

"Here," Martin said, feeling daring, and stepped forward to help him adjust it. Jon sighed, arms falling to his sides as Martin pulled the whole sheet off of him to try and find the middle of it.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Middle found, he offered one end to Jon, who slipped it over his head wordlessly and waited as Martin pulled at the fabric around him to get it straight. "Okay, that should stay."

Jon cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said again. "Ready to face the crowd?"

"If you are."

"Right." Jon hesitated for another moment. Then there was a rush of light, almost blinding after the darkness of the closet, as he pushed the door open.

There was an immediate chorus of wolf whistles from the crowd waiting outside, interspersed with a few scattered cheers and  _ many  _ winks. Thankfully they already seemed to have the next victims selected, though, so Jon and Martin were swiftly pushed out of the way and replaced with another set of unfortunate partygoers who were locked in the closet posthaste.

Martin chuckled as a thought occurred to him. "You know, I haven't been in a closet since high school," he said, and turned to see if Jon would get the pun.

He didn't. Indeed, he hadn't even heard it, as he seemed to be struggling furiously with his costume.

"Jon?"

He froze. "Martin? Are you there? I can't see!"

Martin stepped forward, grabbing fistfuls of cloth and pulling them around at random. "What do you mean you can't see? You put eye holes in this thing, didn't you?"

"I can't find them!" He seemed indignant at the very suggestion he might have forgotten.

"Oh, here they are." The small slits in the sheet were hovering around Jon's ear. Martin gave a last tug at the fabric to settle them into place over his face. "Can you see now?"

"Yes." Jon tilted his head, and Martin could see his dark eyes shining out from the shadows under the sheet. "Thank you. Again."

Martin chuckled, and bit back another sentence that would have probably ended in  _ adorable. _ "Any time, Jon."

He was just stepping back, hands falling from the sheet, when he heard someone approaching behind him.

"Martin! There you are!" It was Sasha, with Tim following close behind. Tim gave a huge wink as he approached.

"How were your seven minutes?" he asked, voice dripping with so much innocent curiosity that it sounded like an absolutely  _ scandalous  _ question. Then he spotted Jon. "And how are you, my ghostly friend?"

Jon shrugged. "Fine, Tim, how are you?"

Sasha gasped, and Tim's hand flew to his heart.  _ "Jon?" _ they said, perfectly in sync.

"You made it!" Tim finished on his own, flinging his arms wide in welcome.

"I did," Jon said calmly. "And rest assured, there's no need to report us to HR. We were just talking."

Martin was glad of his mask, as his cheeks grew  _ very  _ warm at that. It wasn't even like they  _ had  _ done anything untoward, but he found himself strangely pleased that Jon wasn't sharing the specifics of how they had spent their time alone.

Tim, being Tim, stuck out his tongue.  _ "HR? _ Boooo! What happens with friends on Halloween stays with friends on Halloween! Shake your brain out of work mode!" Then he paused, and snorted. "Wait, wait, no. I should have said,  _ booooo!" _ He fluttered his hands around, warbling his voice to make it sound ghostly.

It was nigh-on impossible to tell what Jon's hands were doing under the sheet, but Martin would have bet money that he had just facepalmed. "Very funny, Tim," he said, then seemed to notice what he was wearing. "Wait, Tim... Tim, are you Vlad Dracula?"

"Sexy vampire," he corrected, and Sasha groaned.

"Yes, he's Dracula, and he's told that  _ same  _ joke to  _ everyone  _ who asks."

Jon gave a huff that might have been a laugh. "Of course he has. If I'd known what  _ your  _ costume was going to be I'd have put a red nose on mine. I could have been Zero."

Sasha clapped her hands in delight. "Oh! Yes! We should do team costumes next year, we can all coordinate!"

Tim's eyes glowed with pure joy.  _ "Yes. _ That's the dream."

Martin raised his hands in a  _ slow down _ gesture. "That sounds fun, but I am  _ not  _ starting costume planning in May."

"May?" Jon said, sounding incredulous.

"It's the only way to beat Tim," Sasha said, shaking her head. "But if we're doing a team costume I won't have to!"

"But we  _ will  _ expect you two to carry your own weight," Tim warned. "Sasha and I can come up with the theme but I'm  _ not  _ hand sewing trousers for you lot."

_ "Hand sewn?" _ Jon sounded, if possible, even more incredulous than before.

"Halloween is serious business," Tim nodded solemnly, then grinned. "And seriously fun. Come on! They've been playing sardines a few floors down, we should try and catch the next round!"

He spun around, Sasha hot on his heels, and made for the stairway. Jon and Martin followed after, trying not to lose them in the crowd.

As they passed the first landing on the stairs and started down the second flight, Jon leaned in close to Martin.

"I wanted to thank you," he said, voice low but still audible over the crowd. "For back there. I am... very apprehensive about that sort of party game, but it was quite pleasant, spending the time with you."

Martin nearly missed the next step. "O-oh! Uh, y-yeah, of course, Jon, um, it was- th-thank you too, it was really nice."

There was no way to tell what expression Jon made in response to that, but, somehow, Martin was sure he was smiling. The crowd grew thinner as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jon didn't move away from Martin's side, hovering close to him as Tim explained the rules of the game.

Martin knew it wouldn't last. Whatever instinct of comradery or comfort Jon was feeling toward him now would be gone with the sunrise, and by the time they got back to the office on Monday things between them would be back to business as usual.

Even so...

Martin was still warm with the feeling of Jon's arms wrapped around him, the slow beat of their hearts as they held each other in the darkness. Just because it wouldn't last didn't mean it hadn't happened, or was meaningless.

There was a light touch on his arm, and he looked over to see Jon reaching out for him, sheet-covered hand still raised. Tim and Sasha were already halfway across the room, going in opposite directions as they launched into the game.

"Want to start looking together?" Jon asked. "I'm afraid neither of us will have the best visibility through these costumes."

Martin smiled. "Between the two of us we'll make one functional player."

Jon laughed, and turned to lead the way out of the room. Martin followed after, feeling light as air.

No, this wouldn't last long. But Tim had been right: this was, indeed, an unforgettable night.


End file.
